Invisible
by Black.Rose.Authoress
Summary: Arthur's only six, but he's already realized that it's not quite normal to grow up with a brother only you can see... Meanwhile, his mother is starting to worry about her son's "imaginary friend," Francis. Ghost AU. Prequel to USUK Calendar Fic.


A/N: Hello~ So, in a chat with an awesome person last night, I was reminded that I'd actually started this story a while ago and never finished it. So… I finished it. Woot. It goes along with one of the short stories in the USUK Calendar, where I took the very very basic premise from the video game 'Beyond: Two Souls' where we have a person (Arthur) who has had a ghost (Francis) attached to him for his entire life.

This is a prequel to that story, involving them where they're six. And…that's about all I gotta say about it. Parents are just OC's. Not super important.

* * *

 **Invisible**

Tessa Kirkland often couldn't help but wonder where Arthur could have possibly gotten such a wild, colorful, and incredible imagination. She knew it definitely hadn't come from her—she'd never excelled in any creative area—and it was even less likely to have come from her estranged husband. Dennis had always been the ultra-logical type; the sort of man who grumbled when she read fairy tales to their son and complained that she was the reason he was growing 'soft'.

It was the main reason _why_ they were currently separated. So what if their little boy liked to draw, garden, read fairy tales, and attempt to help her bake? He was six and those were the things that made him happy.

Those, as well as coming up with stories. Arthur loved tell stories about knights, princesses, fairies, dragons… He had probably filled close to a hundred sketchbooks already with images from those stories, all exploding from his incredible imagination.

But… There was one story that differed from the rest. And that was the one that sometimes…well…

Sometimes it worried her.

Tessa knew that it was perfectly natural for children to create imaginary friends—especially a little boy like Arthur. He was six-years-old, an only child, a bit shy, and… As much as she and Dennis had done their best to make the separation amicable, his life had recently undergone a major upheaval.

There was nothing strange about him creating a playmate; the child psychologists she'd talked to during and after they completed the separation process even said it was good for him.

It was just…Well… Something seemed _off_. That was the only way she could describe it.

There was the name, for one thing. _Francis_. It seemed like an odd choice, as he'd only been three or four when he'd chosen it and she was almost certain it wasn't a name he'd come across before. He couldn't even _pronounce_ the name correctly for a long while, the 'R' turning into a 'W'.

But, he clearly knew that it was supposed to _be_ Francis. Arthur always had this tendency to wrinkle his nose when he was frustrated or annoyed—ever since he was a little tiny baby—and he'd always do that nose-wrinkle when trying to say his imaginary playmate's name… As if he knew it was wrong, but just hadn't yet developed the linguistic skills required to say the word correctly.

Which...didn't really make sense at that age. But, Arthur was very intelligent and he'd developed so quickly. Tessa thought it must just be attributable to that, combined with his incredible imagination.

Just like all the other things that seemed odd…

Of course, he occasionally blamed things on Francis. Said _he_ was the one to knock her favorite mug off the shelf and shatter it into a million pieces and told her that it was Francis who lost her earrings. Those sorts of things were definitely normal uses for imaginary friends. She'd punish him for lying, whenever that happened. But he was always so _insistent_. He was normally a pretty good kid and there were times when he'd do something and respond with the appropriate remorse and shame, but whenever he blamed something on Francis and she punished him, he acted so… Differently. Like he really _was_ being punished for something he didn't do.

And then, sometimes he said things that were so unsettling. Like when she asked him about Francis once—'who is he, where is he from,' just because she was curious how he'd answer—and he turned to look at her and said, "He was in the box with me."

"Box?"

He'd nodded, frowning. "You weren't there, Mummy. It was…" He seemed to be struggling to describe whatever in the world he was imagining. "It was so bright and there were people—" He stopped and tilted his head to the side, oddly like he was listening to something. Then he added, "Doctors, Mummy. There were doctors. And there were babies in the other boxes, but Francis was with _me_."

It took a few moments. A few long moments for her to realize what he was describing. What he couldn't _possibly_ be describing. Arthur had been a preemie. He'd been placed in an incubator after birth. But…It wasn't _possible_ for him to remember that.

She eventually reasoned it away, though, just like she reasoned away his other odd statements. He must have seen something on TV or maybe someone else in the family mentioned it to him—although, she could never bring herself to _ask_ anyone if that was the case, for some reason. There was no point in worrying, she kept telling herself. Arthur was just a very creative, very imaginative little boy.

And this was a weekend where she'd been freed from work—an unfortunately-increasingly rare occurrence. They'd made the most of it. Arthur told her stories, they went to the zoo, and then drew pictures of their favorite animals together. It had been fun, the kind of fun that kept all her worries deep underground.

Even when Arthur argued with his imaginary friend about whether elephants or giraffes were cooler and when he demanded she buy _two_ stuffed animals at the gift shop. "Because Francis wants one too." The sale was two-for-twenty, so there really wasn't any reason not to.

It was the kind of busy weekend that ended with a little boy blinking blearily while she read him his favorite bed time story—while, of course, insisting that he wasn't sleepy. She helped him brush his teeth, get into his pajamas, and then tucked him into bed.

"You'll leave the door open, Mummy? Francis is scared of the dark," he mumbled, already half-asleep.

"Of course, I'll leave the door open for Francis." _That_ one was cute. Arthur was so insistent that _he_ had no problems with the dark. It was _Francis_ who was scared.

"Mmk," he nodded and his eyes slid shut. She smiled, then leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

"Love you, baby."

One eye opened. "Kiss Francis too, Mummy."

She hesitated, that faintest feeling of something being not-quite-right tingling in her fingertips for a split moment. But, then she shook it away and sent her little boy a bright smile before leaning over him and kissing the air beside his head. "Of course, Francis can have a kiss too."

Arthur nodded, seemingly satisfied, then rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around the mint-colored rabbit-with-wings plushie that was his prized possession. A gift from his grandmother, who based the design off one of his drawings.

"I love you, Mummy. Francis says he loves you too, but I love you more."

She couldn't help but smile at the childish assertion. "Well, I love you both very much. Now, go to sleep. You're going to have a busy day at school tomorrow."

She saw his head move against the pillow in what was probably a nod. Tessa smiled and backed into the hallway, watching as Arthur cuddled with his stuffed animal.

Except… She suddenly stopped. For a moment, she thought she saw…

It had to be a trick of the light, or her own tired mind, but for a moment… She thought she saw the rabbit toy _move_. Away from Arthur. Like it was being _tugged_ away by something.

Arthur made a mumbled, unintelligible sound and then she saw him squeeze the rabbit more tightly.

…Just her imagination. She'd better be careful or her son's might start rubbing off on hers. She shook her head and closed the door halfway, so light from the hallway would still shine inside. Then she went to her own bedroom, pushing all her worries and thought-she'd-seen's away.

Everything was fine. She was just overreacting.

~.~.~

Arthur was tired. It'd been a long day. Mummy had taken him to the zoo today and he'd gotten to see all kinds of animals. Elephants and zebras and giraffes and lions and cheetahs and snakes and monkeys. He'd liked all of them, although he thought the lions were probably the best. There'd been two baby lions playing together and Mummy even bought him a toy lion whose name was going to be Galahad.

It'd been a very long, busy day and he wanted to go to sleep. But he _couldn't_.

"Francis, stop it."

Because Francis was being _stupid_.

His companion responded with a whiny, "You said _I_ could have Flying Mint Bunny tonight."

Arthur was pretty sure he _hadn't_ said that. He definitely would remember if he did. 'Sides… "You don't _need_ Flying Mint Bunny. You have your stinky rooster."

"But it's _my_ turn."

Arthur had been keeping his eyes closed, trying to fall asleep despite Francis's annoyingness. But now he opened his eyes and glared at the boy lying beside him on the bed. He doesn't look very much like him, except that they have the same hair color. His is long and wavy and he has blue eyes instead of green and you can see through him, a little bit. Arthur tries to not do that, though, because it makes his eyes hurt. "Nan gave him to _me_ , so I don't _have_ to share if I don't want to."

Arthur knew—even as he said it—that it wasn't a nice thing to say. After all, he was _always_ the one Nan gave the toys to, because Nan couldn't even _see_ Francis. Nobody could see Francis except for him. Not even Mummy.

It was weird. He didn't know why. Francis didn't know why, either.

"Fine," Francis finally decided to reply. "Like I'd even want that stupid bunny. Bunnies aren't supposed to have wings."

"It's a _fairy_ bunny." Arthur frowned. "Fairy bunnies of course have wings."

"How do you know? Have you ever _seen_ a fairy bunny?"

Well, no. "Only because the fairies only come out to see good boys who believe in them and they can't come see me because _you're_ always around."

Francis snorted and reached out toward Flying Mint Bunny again. Arthur hurriedly moved it out of reach and Francis's fingers only managed to brush against his arm.

Arthur flinched at the touch that felt like ice cubes being run along his skin. "Quit it! You're cold!"

"Stop being selfish, then!" And now Francis rolled over and pressed one of his feet against Arthur's leg under the covers.

That wasn't fair! Arthur couldn't do anything about _that_. He tried jerking his leg away, but Francis's foot just followed. He tried to think of a way to fight back and suddenly thought of, "If you don't stop, I'll go close the door and we'll be all alone in the _dark_."

 _That_ worked. Francis stopped trying to touch him. Instead, his lips twisted down into a pout. "Jerkface."

Arthur stuck his tongue out. "You're a jerkface." He knew he'd won. Francis was really really scared of the dark, even though that was a _baby_ thing to be afraid of. Sey, one of his friends in kindergarten, even said so.

As they lay there, though, Arthur started to feel a little twisting feeling in his stomach.

He knew Francis didn't like that no one could see him, especially Mummy… Mummy never even remembered to give him a kiss goodnight unless Arthur reminded her. And Sey would play with him and Arthur, but some of the other kids at school said stupid things like that he didn't even _exist_.

He didn't get presents for Christmas or on their birthday. And last time they visited Daddy at his new house… He said that Arthur needed to 'grow up' and stop talking 'nonsense' and wouldn't even leave the door open at night, because he needed to 'man up'. Arthur had to get up and open it himself after Daddy went away so Francis would stop sniffling.

Arthur thought about this, then sighed and set Flying Mint Bunny on the bed, next to Francis. "Okay, you can have her for tonight. But _I'm_ gonna ask Nan to make you your own. That way we don't have to keep sharing."

Francis immediately grinned, reaching out and tugging Flying Mint Bunny against his chest. "Will you tell her to make it blue?"

"I _guess_." He gave a long-suffering sigh, but… He did feel better now.

He sat up a little bit, so he could get his lion plushie and then lay back down and cuddled the toy against his chest. Even if he wasn't Flying Mint Bunny, Galahad was also special.

He closed his eyes. "Night night, Francis."

"Night night, Arthur."

* * *

A/N: Hope ya enjoyed! I actually don't have a ton to say about this one, except that… I really like this premise. Also, poor Franny-baby. Anyway, so this particularly story is only a one-shot, but at some point—once I'm done with some other stories—I want to come back to this AU. Because I _really_ like this premise.

(Also, because Big Mike as medium/Leon as her reluctant protégé. Which is just schadenfreude, honestly.)

Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease review if you liked it! Let me know what you think! It makes me ridiculously happy to get reviews and also inspires me to write more!


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